


the victories and the lows.

by komkommertijd



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 2019 season replay, Drunken Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I keep adding more tags w h y, I'm sorry I'm horrible at tagging, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language, Rivals to kind of Lovers to it's complicated, also looks into the future seasons, brief mentions of the pandemic if you squint, but really nothing much, lots of alcohol though, mostly just beer, none of this makes sense and I'm anxious about it, probably not, some character developement i hope?, the sad dad squad, there's a lot going on oh boy, why is it 5 am help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24138088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komkommertijd/pseuds/komkommertijd
Summary: Well, maybe it's one constant, he thinks when he finds Valtteri in the crowd of celebrating people and clinks their bottles together. They drink to the season and to their therapy-drinking-sessions throughout it and Daniel smiles a little harder and laughs a little louder after that.
Relationships: Valtteri Bottas/Daniel Ricciardo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	the victories and the lows.

**Author's Note:**

> What have I done? I have no idea, seriously.
> 
> I just randomly had this idea and thought hey, let's write that and now, five days later I'm here with this 9k monster that barely makes any sense and seems so pointless but it's fiction :DDD
> 
> I'm honestly very scared because I feel as if I messed most of this up halfway through it and thanks to it being 5 am I really can't bring myself to understand the plot, the character dynamics, or anything else. My brain wants sleep for some reason. Anyway, I sincerely apologize for whatever this is and I hope at least someone will have fun reading this.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who actually takes their time for this mess, I appreciate it a lot.
> 
> The title is from Everybody We Know, a song by the Thundamentals that felt kind of fitting.

**AUSTRALIA 2019**

Daniel doesn't even know what to feel when he sinks down on the floor in his hotel room that night. Disappointment seems like the logical answer when his back hits the wall and he stares out the window into the dark, city lights of Melbourne illuminating in the night. He hasn't even bothered to turn on the light, too afraid to see his own reflection in the glass front, the tiredness in his eyes, and the anger that inevitably accompanies disappointment. He's disappointed and yet he does not know whether he should be. After all, he knew not to expect too much, he knew not to have high hopes. Hoping high means falling lower and colliding with the ground, which seems like a pretty ironic comparison at that moment, just hurts even more.

Maybe that's why he's disappointed in the end. He dared to hope, he thought that maybe he could live up to the expectations, maybe he thought he could prove them all wrong and brush it off like it's nothing with the satisfaction of being able to subtly shove it into their faces, the _hah, I don't need you_ that's left unspoken. But it didn't come and it won't come any time soon and Daniel really should have seen it coming. He didn't and he's disappointed for being stupid enough to think that maybe things could work out for once.

The message of pity he is waiting for never comes and he almost snorts in angry amusement because of course, it doesn't. It wouldn't come because the usual author of the text is somewhere out in the city, getting drunk and celebrating the high of a good start to the season, celebrating a win, something that feels like nothing more than a faint fantasy to Daniel, while he is left to sit in his oh so lonely hotel room all by himself with no one to rant, no one to take it all out on, no one to tell him that it's okay and that things will be better soon.

He tells himself that he at least couldn't possibly screw things up even more after already starting with disappointment. Disappointing himself, the team, the fans, everyone who was there to disappoint – it could only get better from there. He doesn't want to hope anymore but he catches himself doing it later in bed when he has the thin blanket sticking to his skin and his head empty. The light of the nearby buildings still bathes the room in a weird combination of orange and black shadows dancing across the ceiling. He catches himself giving in to the longing and the pain in his stomach and hoping that it will all turn out well.

There's still no unread messages when he turns his phone off and falling asleep is really strange. The bed is too big, the air-conditioner not strong enough and everything is just way too fucked up and wrong.

* * *

**BAHRAIN 2019**

It doesn't get better and once again Daniel feels stupid for having even a glimpse of hope, a tiny light at the end of the endless tunnel of pain and – disappointment. There it is again, the word he already resents so much by now, only two races into the season. It was supposed to be a fresh start, a new challenge, but stomaching one punch into his guts after the other is not the kind of challenge he was looking for. They should write it in the contract, _we'll give you money in exchange for your happiness and dignity_ , but maybe Daniel just has to pay better attention to the fine print the next time.

It hurts just as much this time after he almost couldn't believe his luck to make it that far, just to get crushed by the realization of h _ey, you can't have this, this is not how this works_ , right as he was allowing himself to hope, just for a second, that he could finish this race in a decent position and do a decent job and get a decent celebration after but even decent and okay and mediocre seem to be too good for him. It's painful and not even Nico's words of comfort can help to soothe that pain in any way. Maybe he should say those things back, return the favor because they're in this together and if they can't get out of that hellhole they could at least try to fight through it together with the support of someone who gets it, unlike everyone who just calls and says "I know what you feel like" and doesn't actually know all that much about the disappointment.

He does get a call later and it's loud and there's music playing and Daniel really doesn't even want to think about parties and the happy mood of everyone around, everyone who didn't have a shit day and everyone who's living their best life. Daniel doesn't want to talk so both ends of the line stay quiet for a period of time that seems to stretch on forever and still feels too short when they snap out of it. He's tired and heartbroken and he just wants to turn the goddamn phone off and go to sleep but he's too polite to hang up just like that.

"Just know that you're allowed to be angry. I would be too," Valtteri says to break the silence and he might be screaming into the microphone of a ridiculously expensive phone but Daniel turned the volume down even before he picked up the call and it's a barely-there statement against the thumping of the loud music.

"I'm not angry. I'm disappointed."

It's a thing only teachers and parents say whenever they actually are angry, or just trying to make the other person feel bad, and Daniel hates himself for it, but he's being honest. He is disappointed, anger is just a side-effect of it all. His head hurts, partly from all the thinking he's been doing and partly from the still obnoxiously loud music. It's good to know that Valtteri didn't even bother to leave the party before he called and it feels an awful lot like he's just trying to rub it in as if he just wanted to show Daniel what he could have instead of room service midnight snacks and tv shows in a language he doesn't understand to drown out the noise in his head while the ones who were actually successful a few hours ago were out and getting drunk. Again.

He hangs up and tosses his phone onto the nightstand of his, once again, too big bed with the uncomfortable mattress before he turns the tv off and drags himself into the bathroom for his third shower of the day. He doesn't actually shower, he's just standing under the continuously cooling water while it rains down on him and leans his forehead against the cold tiles of the wall. Daniel closes his eyes and just for a second, he manages to empty his head and think about nothing.

Just for a second, and then he's back in his hotel in Bahrain and the now freezing cold water is making him shiver. He stays in the shower for a while longer, just to drown out the pain of disappointment with a different kind of pain.

* * *

**CHINA 2019**

Shanghai feels like a dream and Daniel allows himself to feel proud of what he's achieved for once. It's not a DNF and he finished in a decent position and that's really more than he expected rather than less than expected this time. Disappointment is replaced by pride and it feels like the first genuine smile in weeks when he gets to take his helmet off and breathe freely.

It doesn't last long.

Nico is fighting the anger and the disappointment and the pain that Daniel knows a little too well at the moment, so he decides to talk to him. Nico is a nice guy and after he tried to cheer Daniel up despite his own issues the last time, it's the least Daniel can do. He awkwardly pats Nico's back and tries to find a few fitting words for the situation. He doesn't say that he knows what Nico feels like. He doesn't say that he's sorry for him, although he is but pity is annoying, and he doesn't try to lie by saying that things would get better. He doesn't, Daniel simply knows that it would waste both their time, so he pats Nico on the back once more and talks about other things instead. It's like beating around the bush, not addressing the elephant in the room, denying what has happened, but Nico seems to appreciate it, giving Daniel a sad smile and thanking him silently.

Daniel doesn't feel like celebrating and at the same time he does and it feels weird to be back at a party. He spends most of his time sitting alone at the bar counter, nursing the same bottle of warm beer for hours on end while the younger drivers are partying together, and only then does he notice how stupid all of it is. They're all exhausted and dead tired and they have better things to do than to go out together with what is supposed to be their rivals to party.

Or maybe Daniel is just really getting too old.

"Hey," Valtteri tries when he sits down next to him on an empty bar chair. He too has a bottle of beer in his hand but there are single drops of water wetting the label and running down the colorful glass, so it is probably neither the first nor the last beer and, most importantly, it's cold. He sighs and takes another sip from his own bottle.

"Congratulations," is all Daniel says in return because there's not much else he could have potentially say. They're not on a level of friendliness like Daniel is with Max, they don't just fall into easy conversation about stupid things, no matter how silly or random the topic is. Valtteri is not one of the scared rookies he can joke around with and bully them to a slight degree and even though there's mutual respect, there's not much else there. They're enemies, and surely not the kind that fights each other on track and gets along perfectly off track. They just clash and there's not much common ground and Daniel doesn't know why they're doing this. He doesn't know why they are talking or interacting in any way when they're not forced to. Valtteri is one of those drivers where Daniel mostly succeeds with the entire not getting attached thing.

He's just Valtteri, there's not much positive stuff Daniel connects with him and less negative stuff recently than there used to be and it's relatively neutral, no strong feelings and that's kind of exactly the thing about Valtteri that irks Daniel. No strong feelings are just not Daniel's style and neutral ones aren't either and it's frustrating and annoying.

Valtteri looks like he wants to say "Congratulations on not fucking up as bad as before" but he doesn't and instead empties his bottle and orders a new one. Daniel still sips the lukewarm dishwater from his own bottle and the awkward silence and the tension between them keep growing.

"Thanks," Valtteri says before he gets up and Daniel has already forgotten what they were even talking about when he watches the other driver leave and he's once again left alone.

He always ends up alone, even when he's surrounded by so many familiar faces and unknown bodies.

* * *

**AZERBAIJAN 2019**

It's humiliating almost, the way one can get dragged through the dirt for a stupid mistake. A mistake that surely could have been avoided, a mistake that Daniel just wants to forget, and yet the words ring in his ears and he's frustrated once again and this time he's truly disappointed in himself. He drags himself through the rest of the day, listens to the rants directed at him, shrugs at the _how can you be this stupid?_ a million times and finds the view of his shoes very interesting all of a sudden. He feels like a fucking child that's getting scolded by his parents and it's annoying in the worst way.

Another night alone in his hotel room, another night of contemplating life and every mistake that lead him to where he is now, another night of the others partying and enjoying their time while he just wants to sleep. Alternatively, leaving this place sounds like the second-best escape, an easy way to escape his thoughts and the blame and the disappointment for a while.

He's so goddamn tired, not only because he's overfatigued after the day, but because of everything, because of every hurtful word and because of the looming frustration of someone who's close to screaming because no one lets him explain his point of view, no one even cares about it. It should not have happened and it's Daniel's fault and he knows it, but taking the blame is just another one of those punches to the gut that feels like it's knocking the air out of him.

Right when he thought that he finally caught himself in the freefall of the season and that things were finally working and getting better and less of a headache, he fucks it up badly. Now he's back at zero and he has to prove himself all over again and show that he can actually do things without screwing up every single time. He has to wait until he gets another chance in Barcelona now and the reasonable adult in him demands to focus on the future and on getting better results rather than reevaluating all the bad results in the pasts. What happened was stupid and avoidable but it's in the past and Daniel can't change it anymore. He can't fix his mistakes in the past, he can only focus on improving and gradually getting better.

He wants to be reasonable for once but it hurts and ignoring that feeling is something Daniel knows won't work any time soon. He takes a shower, it's not the best way to cope but the only one that comes to his mind that doesn't involve alcohol, and lets his thoughts wander, head against the tiles, cool water running down his back until the goosebumps become too much and he has to turn the water off. He keeps his forehead pressed against the wall for a while longer and focusses on his breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply and calmly until his heartbeat slows down a little, relieved from the earlier rage and anxiety of some kind.

Daniel remembers the phone call from that night in Shanghai when he picks up his phone and he exhales his ironic amusement when he recalls the words Valtteri had said. "I would be angry too." Sure he would be, but he came first once again and there's really nothing there to be angry about and Daniel hates him a little for how much it sounds like nonsense in his head. Just another person who doesn't know how it feels, someone who doesn't get it.

Maybe he should be thankful for that call, because at least Valtteri tried, but he's not, so he turns his phone off and hides under the uncomfortable blanket of his bed.

* * *

**SPAIN 2019**

Barcelona is not that big of a deal. He doesn't finish in the points but at least he finishes and that's more than he expected once again. He should be satisfied with it, it was a consistent race and a, once again, pretty decent finish and it's one of those results that isn't really a high but at least it's not a fucking low for once and yet it feels weird. Daniel doesn't actually know how to feel about it. It's one of those very neutral events that doesn't reach him emotionally all that much, one of those events where he sits down at the end of the day and wonders whether that was actually it and realizing that there's nothing more than that is depressing in a strange way.

Instead of moping in his room, he joins the others for once, claiming his now apparently usual spot away from the chaos. He sits at the bar counter again, with another beer that tastes like nothing, or nothing that tries particularly hard to charm his tastebuds at least, and he wonders when he stopped being the life of the party. He would blame it on his age but that's just another really depressing thing to think about. Daniel takes a sip from his bottle, scrunches his nose, hopes that no one saw that, and continues to watch how Charles tries to get someone to do shots with him. He has his own disappointment to deal with and chooses alcohol to be the outlet, which is exactly what Daniel denied himself the race prior.

Valtteri is there too and Daniel feels the urge to punch him for so relaxed and unbothered by yet another podium. He seems okay with it, it's not a big deal when one ends up there regularly probably, and yet Daniel wonders whether he's actually disappointed as well for coming second. Second place isn't bad at all, but it's not first, it's undoubtedly not what Valtteri wanted. Or at least Daniel really hopes that he wants more, doesn't accept this position and fights to get better because else he might lose all his sympathy for Valtteri. He will never be happy with what he achieves, always striving for more, higher, faster, better, and the thought that someone could be happy in the position Valtteri is in feels sickening.

He tries not to let his head tell him that he should be there instead of Valtteri, that he would appreciate it more. Jealousy is an ugly feeling.

* * *

**MONACO 2019**

Finally getting some much-needed points is a relief and Daniel almost dares to feel satisfied with the result because it's fucking Monaco and he finished the race and- he can't find more excuses. Ninth is better than a DNF, that's all he knows and all that matters and hey, two points are better than none. But it's fucking Monaco and the memories of past years, the thought of what could have been, is very much present in Daniel's head and not even alcohol can help him out of that it seems.

He leaves the party early and goes to sleep early and he's so tired and exhausted from the day. His head hurts, it's not the alcohol, and he just wants to drop on his mattress, finally one that doesn't make his body feel like shit in the morning, and never get up again.

The city lights reflect on the ceiling of his bedroom and it reminds him of Melbourne. It shouldn't, it's silly and he knows all of that, but he can't help it. It takes him back to the beginning of this shitshow and it leaves a sour taste in his mouth despite the heavy mint of his toothpaste that's still lingering. He doesn't want to think about it, now that he has finally reached a point where he feels like things are going uphill, but it's still there in the back of his head, accompanied by the thought of what could have been today if he just performed better.

It's been a gloomy week with none of them quite knowing how to feel and the end of it doesn't help to soothe any of it really. It's been a painful few days leading up to the race and the tension is still there in a way that feels familiar and yet it doesn't and Daniel tries to close his eyes to stop his brain from trying to figure his feelings out because he knows that it's a helpless progress without a final result and there are too many other things occupying his mind and his head is so full and yet so empty.

It's fucking Monaco, it's always been emotional and it's just a tad bit worse this year for multiple reasons that make Daniel's heart feel heavy in his chest.

* * *

**CANADA 2019**

It's highs and lows switching constantly and it's all ups and downs and Daniel should be happy with what he did there because sixth place is good and definitely not disappointing in the slightest but something inside him just can't deal with what happened on track when Valtteri got ahead of him after he fought so hard not to let him past. Looking back at it now it seems inevitable, there's no way he could have kept him behind, and neither could he have kept Max from overtaking, there was just no real possibility whatsoever and it shouldn't bug him because he did well nonetheless.

But it does and that probably annoys Daniel even more. It shows that he's weak, that he lets stuff like this affect him more than he should and it proves once again that he's a joke and that his season is a joke and that all of it is just one bad joke that not even he could bring himself to laugh about and he finds a lot of weird things funny.

At least the satisfaction of Valtteri not getting on the podium this time calms his nerves and it feels like some kind of a compromise, like _look, at least he doesn't get as much praise for it as he usually does_ , but it doesn't make the entire situation that much better.

Daniel shouldn't be bothered and he shouldn't have that faint thought of how sweet this could have felt, how satisfied he could feel now, stuck in his head. It's childish. If he wanted this he should have tried harder, risked more, and focused better. He should have done better.

It all has the same outcome in the end and Daniel turns his phone off before anyone can ask him to join the party. He doesn't feel like celebrating this time, which is stupid because he celebrated worse results before, so he turns the tv on and watches some movie that's finally in English for once and yet the words blur in his head and it makes him feel pathetic, the way he's once again alone in his room with some random show playing in the back and filling the room with noise just so that it feels less lonely.

Daniel leaves the tv on while he showers this time and it's not his most climate-friendly decision but he's too tired to care and god, he's so goddamn disappointed when he falls asleep that night, far away from home and the only things that make him feel sane nowadays and once again, alone and disappointed.

* * *

**FRANCE 2019**

The French Grand Prix is one that genuinely seems boring to Daniel 80 percent of the time and it's a race he doesn't anticipate as much as some others. That includes Melbourne and Monaco and well – that didn't go as planned. Which is exactly why all the stupid mishappenings of the day hurt just a little more when Daniel gets out of the car.

Another thing that feels unfamiliar about his entire situation is the importance the French Grand Prix suddenly holds. Not for him, not at all, really, but for the team and that's definitely something Daniel still isn't used to. It's all so different and yet it's all the same, just on another track, in another country, with another constructor and the same shitty mistakes and an engine that brings him close to ripping his hair out. He doesn't and that's probably the better choice, so he smiles and wears the shirt that's itchy against his skin and especially and only worn in France and he doesn't agree with the harmony of yellow against white but he doesn't say it and tries to look happy and proud and whatever the hell the press wants to see.

He feels bad for Romain and remembers crashing out in his own home race this year and he really doesn't want to be that person saying "hey, I know what it feels like" because that would go against everything he's been thinking for the past months, so he doesn't say it and only says "that's shitty man". No "I'm sorry", pity is still annoying, after all, no "it'll be better next time" because he really doesn't want to crush other people's hopes. He pats his back, not even a tiny bit less awkward than it was when he did it with Nico in China, and leaves when Romain smiles at him and the press attacks him with questions he already got tired of years ago. He tries his best to make up new answers, says he's happy for the guys on the podium, happy about being in France, and pleased with his results. He's not, but Aurélie seems pleased with that answer so he doesn't say what he's actually thinking. He's learned that it only brings more drama than it avoids.

The evening is quiet when he goes for a walk, later on, once again dodging the loud music and good moods that seem to accompany the drivers after every race this year. Celebrating their success and their great lives is not something Daniel really feels like doing at all. Sure, he's grateful for everything he's achieved, or most of it anyway, and he knows that he's privileged and he's thankful for everything he's got but he regrets some of his decisions and that makes it hard to celebrate. He acknowledges it all and chooses to leave it at that. It's not worth abusing his last three working brain cells for that now.

For once he just tries to ignore the world around him as he walks down the street with the sand on the sidewalk crumbling under his feet. It's still warm outside and it's a good day if he ignores the race and everything before and after it. It's a good evening and he decides not to waste his energy on rage and disappointment while he watches the sun melt on the horizon.

It feels strange, but it's better than numbing disappointment.

* * *

**GERMANY 2019**

It's chaos from the first second to the last and it's definitely not what any of them had expected coming into the weekend. He tries to focused as far as he can and the water droplets on his visor are less annoying than the water that's slowly but surely finding ways to get underneath his suit and it's fucking hard to keep the car straight when the track is slippery and everyone's in a strange mood between calm and collected and a full-blown panic attack and there are simply too many distracting factors for a single person to keep up with.

He knows that he could blame it on the weather when he gets out of the car but once again he's frustrated with himself. Finishing this race, no matter in what position would have given him some of his dignity back, but now he's out and all he can do is shrug and agree when a few of the engineers complain about the weather. The entire race is a disaster and Daniel is not the only one who doesn't get to see the checkered flag in the end and the only thing about it all that makes it all seem less bad is the fact that Valtteri also ends up with a DNF behind his name.

Daniel feels bad for the satisfaction that spreads somewhere in the back of his head. It's like coming back home from school with a bad grade and _hey mom, I got a C in maths but Valtteri also got one and he's usually pretty good at maths_ has always been a stupid thing to say. He's not some bratty schoolboy anymore and he hides behind the towel he got from god knows where in shame for behaving like an idiot.

He's just so- so... disappointed.

There's no denying it, really, and on that occasion, alcohol feels like the only cure for his disappointment-disease, so he finds himself in some shady looking German pub and he's finally alone for once, despite not being far enough away from the track at all. No drunk screaming Charles Leclerc, no one else who could possibly give him a headache more than the alcohol undoubtedly will and it's all fine for once until it isn't.

"Is that seat taken?"

"What does it look like?" Daniel counterquestions because he wants to make conversation with Valtteri Bottas the least out of all people. He doesn't get rid of him, even with the snappy tone of his voice and he wants to bang his head against the counter when Valtteri sits down and orders a beer.

Daniel wants to tell him, wants to make it clear that they're rivals and shouldn't sit there and contemplate life like old friends, that they should stay away from each other when they got the chance to, that he doesn't want to talk about everything that has happened on the track and again, they're rivals.

He doesn't though, because Max is his rival too and they got along just fine, he gets along fine with Charles too when he's not drunk, and he's fucking Daniel Ricciardo who supposedly gets along with everyone despite not being able to bring himself to care about half of the people he talks to, and he's too exhausted to find an excuse as to why he doesn't get along with Valtteri in particular. Instead, he takes a sip of his beer, it's a decent one for once, and stares at the wood of the bar counter, staying quiet.

Why exactly should he dislike Valtteri? Sure, they're rivals, god what a stupid argument this more and more becomes the more often he thinks about it, and Valtteri has got everything Daniel could probably want but besides that, his mind goes blank and offers nothing more than a bright red question mark. He doesn't have all that much to do with Valtteri, not off track and lately not on track either, and they don't share many happy memories, none that don't involve any kind of podium anyway, and it's just- there's not much of a connection to Valtteri. It's the lack of an emotional bond that makes it easier for Daniel to say that he dislikes Valtteri, even if that might not actually be the entire truth.

"Today was shit, huh?"

Daniel hums because he fears that he might explode and say something stupid like that the entire season, the entire year has been shit, but Valtteri wouldn't understand. Valtteri doesn't understand and he probably never would so all Daniel does is exhale loudly and he reaches for his bottle again to avoid talking and having to come up with a new topic of conversation.

"It's a frustrating feeling when you know you could do better and you're stuck in a position where you continuously have to prove yourself, I get it. And it's disappointing, at least that's what it feels like to me."

He fixes his eyes on the label of his bottle and words he doesn't understand blur together. Daniel would probably roll his eyes if he didn't try to read the Radeberger logo and the list of ingredients of the beer on the back of the bottle. The words Valtteri threw into the room make sense and they perfectly match Daniel's thoughts and it makes him angry that Valtteri of all people understands what he feels like. If it was Max or Charles or hell, even Nico would be better because they're not miles and miles away from each other emotionally. It's not that he doesn't want someone to understand him and the things that are occupying his mind but he's not too keen about it being Valtteri.

"We'll get over it, cheers man", Daniel suggests and when their bottles clink together in the middle it feels like a little bit of peace for a second.

* * *

**HUNGARY 2019**

It gets worse again, well it can't get worse than last time really, but once again there are no points and 14th place is pure disappointment and frustration all over again. They're not quite there yet, they're trying their best, they're working hard on improving, yadda, yadda, yadda.

He calls Max and listens to his rant about the race for twenty minutes until he's calmed down and Daniel doesn't want to think about the way it makes him miss the past this way, the two of them sitting together in a motorhome or in a hotel room and talking about everything that annoys them about the team and the races and everything else and he cuts himself off before he has the time to regret things he shouldn't regret all over again.

Instead, he leaves the hotel behind and goes out to the next best bar to drown his sorrows. Daniel doesn't know why he does it, but he finds Valtteri in his contact list and sends him a text because hey, coming eighth isn't as good for him as it would have been for Daniel and there's this weird _something_ in his gut that forces him to hit send and continue his walk down the street until he enters the bar and maybe texting Valtteri was the wrong choice.

Except it seemingly wasn't, because Valtteri was magically already sitting at the counter with two beers in front of him and they exchange sad smiles when Daniel sits down and thanks Valtteri quietly for the beer. It's quiet between them for a while and they respectively think about what the hell they're supposed to do now and then Daniel clears his throat to break the awkwardness and it gives him exactly a second to think about what he's going to say now that he has all of Valtteri's attention on him.

"To another shitty race, huh? Cheers."

They empty three bottles each, and Daniel has to give Valtteri credit for choosing a brand that doesn't taste like dishwater, and he feels strange sympathy for- his rival, who doesn't feel like his rival now that they're drinking beers together like dads from the same neighborhood and he decides to swallow the urge to hate that thought and the thought that maybe they could be okay and hell, Daniel Ricciardo is not best buds with Valtteri Bottas and not all out of a sudden anyway.

It's awkward, talking about things, and it's awkward for both of them and that's oddly calming in a way because it means that they're definitely far from being friends. They're still rivals on the track and acquaintances off track at best and that's fine and there's no hate.

It's fine.

* * *

**ITALY 2019**

Daniel feels like he's on drugs, high on positive feelings and emotions he's missed for so long. It's not a podium but it's so goddamn close to it that it makes his fingertips tingle and his cheeks hurt with how hard he's smiling. This is what proving them all wrong really means and he's proud of himself for once and it still feels so surreal, all of it, with Nico right behind him and they're celebrating together and Daniel lets himself hope for the first time in forever.

It feels good to be back and he's excited and overwhelmed and it was his own hard work that finally paid off after months of suffering. All the hurt, the depressed nights in random hotels, mornings where getting up felt pointless and aching muscles after trying to push himself further finally paid off. Sometimes higher, faster, better works. Daniel couldn't be happier and the tiny voice in his head that tells him just how close he got to the podium is drowned out by happy celebrations and the noise of general excitement that's raging around him.

The evening is a lot quieter than anticipated and Daniel feels grateful for it when he finally gets his hands on another bottle of cold beer, a good one to celebrate instead of dishwater, god he uses that comparison a little too often, to drown his sorrows and it feels good to be alive and _there_ for the first time in forever.

"Didn't think I'd see you here", Valtteri begins the conversation when he sits down on the empty bar chair beside Daniel, ordering his own beer as if it's a usual thing by now, something that just happens naturally and as a matter of course. Only Valtteri's statement denies it, he doesn't sound genuinely surprised but when was he ever good at showing too much emotion anyway, and it gives Daniel's head a chance to escape that thought and focus on reality instead. Reality, where Valtteri is holding up his bottle and angling it towards Daniel so he could clink the glass together as he usually does, with a bad toast that usually follows.

"To a good fucking race", he says instead of the sad toast instead and their bottles knock together a little too enthusiastically. It feels good to down the alcohol and for the first time this year, it actually makes him feel better, multiplying his positive feelings and soothing the nerves that have been wrecked for the entirety of the season so far. Valtteri seems more relaxed as well, opening up a little more than Daniel is used to and showing more emotions than Daniel could comprehend.

It's a fun night after that, despite not much happening besides a few more bottles of beer and the conversation shifting from one unnecessary thing to another trivial one and offering them various opportunities to laugh or to jump up and wildly gesture around with their arms to get their point across. At least Daniel does it and almost causes the bottles to fall over in the process, which only makes him laugh harder because life is treating him kind tonight and he needs to cherish and use it to its full extent before the next race comes and shatters his hopes once again.

Being there and laughing with Valtteri feels like being alive and it feels less strange than it probably should.

* * *

**RUSSIA 2019**

Of course the walls Monza built so carefully came tumbling down over the course of the next two races and another DNF is hard to stomach but it really shouldn't be a surprise at this point anymore. It's not his fault, what could he have done? Tried harder, avoided any stupid mistakes and unlucky situations and no one besides himself really blames him and maybe that's what annoys Daniel the most, maybe he just needs someone to blame him for once, someone to tell him that he's doing a bad job, someone who criticizes him and actually motivates him to be better instead of patting his head like he's some kind of lapdog and telling him that it's not his fault and it's not him, it's the car, it's the others, the blaming each other game never gets old.

One major change in behavior occurs later that day when Daniel actually decides not to take a shower and go straight to bed like he usually does after a bad race, well he does shower but that's where the similarities with former nights end, and when he sits down at a table in the far corner of the nearest bar, Valtteri is already waiting for him, with Vodka this time instead of beer. For a second it feels painfully cliche to drink Vodka in Russia but Daniel figures that it helps better with coping with the disappointment than some- dishwater in a beer bottle, there it is again, the horrible comparison and Daniel doesn't care enough to find a new one or even consider a change. It is what it is, dishwater and a DNF but Valtteri shoves a shot in his direction and distracts Daniel from his misery.

They don't clink their ridiculously small shot glasses together this time, all Daniel says is "fuck this" before he throws his head back and empties the glass. Valtteri doesn't say anything, Daniel is not surprised at all and he really doesn't care all that much and the burn of liquor trickling down his throat is almost comforting by now and maybe that's what scares him the most about this after all.

* * *

**USA 2019**

He doesn't want to think about the disqualification in Japan and neither does he want to think about Mexico but now they're back in Austin and there's really no way for him to ignore that race in any shape or form and he's honestly excited for once and determined not to do bad, because it's Texas baby, goddamnit.

He finishes sixth and that's better than he would have dared to expected and he smiles just a little brighter and all in all it feels just a little bit better. It's an improvement, it's satisfying and it pleases the team and that's all that counts. It's enough, it's good and they can't even thinking of getting a podium yet, although Monza seemingly begged to differ, so sixth place is really just wonderful and a reason to cheer up and enjoy life while they have the opportunity to party in the USA.

Party in the USA means beers with Valtteri in the end and they both had a good weekend, so it's a lot more optimistic than usual and it takes him back to Italy for the briefest of seconds. He smiles, genuinely, when they cheer to an amazing weekend and somehow the urge to hate Valtteri and see him as nothing but a rival fades away the more they drink.

Hate doesn't exist, hate only means that there is an absence of love and while Daniel surely doesn't love Valtteri, he doesn't hate him anymore and the kind of mutual respect they shared shifted and yet stayed the same and it's strange but it feels good and Daniel is somewhat relieved to get along with someone who's finally not a decade younger than him, someone who he doesn't need to impress with immature jokes and stupid actions, someone he can just relax and unwind with, in a location that doesn't scream sex, drugs, and dancing until the sun comes up or one gets completely hammered and passes out. It does feel slightly like the neighborhood dad meeting, except they don't talk about barbecues, lawnmowers, or whatever the fuck dads may talk about, it's not like Daniel has any first-hand experience with that anyway, but they're more like colleague-dads talking about work and their shared pain. It's more like therapy with the colleagues but that idea discomforts Daniel so he stops getting lost in his thoughts and orders another beer instead.

* * *

**BRAZIL 2019**

It's another rollercoaster of a race, for him as much as for everyone else, but he manages to secure another sixth place despite it all and it's by far not the most exciting thing but it's good and a solid base and Daniel smiles when he gets out of the car and it's finally all happy feelings and less of a disaster than most of the past year. He's not too proud of what he's done but everyone else seems to be so he nods along, what can one do against peer pressure after all.

Valtteri isn't happy for it's him with a DNF this time, the first one since Germany and the fact that it doesn't fill Daniel with a sense of payback satisfaction, that feeling of _ha, it's you this time_ not present in his mind is worrying at first but it also feels like growth, like finally being able to not be jealous of someone who's got all he could possibly want.

They still meet up that evening but they're not talking much, Daniel wouldn't know what to say anyway. He lets Valtteri be and keeps quiet with him, sharing the silence because sharing is caring, and showing people that one cares is usually what comforts them. Daniel is horrible at comforting people though, more so adults, peers. It's easier with kids when he can talk to them in an everything-will-be-okay kinda voice because unlike adults they still believe that things will be better and that everything will turn out fine in the end, they don't know better than that and he hugs them and the proximity of a calm heartbeat offers amazing comfort but Valtteri is not a child and Daniel doesn't really feel like hugging him either, so they keep quiet and drink some more and the only thing they really say out loud are their goodbyes.

He pats Valtteri's shoulder and it's not as awkward as when he did it with other drivers but it's not entirely alright and okay either and he just hopes that it will help Valtteri somehow. For once he hopes and allows himself to do it, he doesn't hope for himself after all.

* * *

**ABU DHABI 2019**

Maybe Daniel is really getting old or it's just all getting a little bit too much for him but he's exhausted when he climbs out of the car and barely missing the points is shitty and, there it is again, disappointing but it's the last race and it's done and over with and god, Daniel has never anticipated a break more than now. It's a little bit like last school days used to be, it's really over and they all won't see each other for a while. There's a lot of hugging, cheat meals, celebrations, and tears and Daniel smiles and feels relieved. It's over for now, he can rest and go back to the currently happier part of his life and it feels horrible, because he loves racing with all his heart, enough to get into the car that he has no real control over if he thinks about it too hard and drive around for some adrenaline kicks that could hypothetically cost him his life but damn, it's the best feeling in the world, even if he's just dithering somewhere at the far end of the midfield and he really shouldn't feel like it's something that he hates. He doesn't and he never will and not even a million DNFs and the slowest car could ever change that love in his heart. Sometimes that love is a little more absent than during other times but it's always there, never gone, the one constant in his life that never wavers despite all doubts.

Well, maybe it's one constant, he thinks when he finds Valtteri in the crowd of celebrating people and clinks their bottles together. They drink to the season and to their therapy-drinking-sessions throughout it and Daniel smiles a little harder and laughs a little louder after that. It's a wonderful time to be alive, a good day to be him and he figures that he will definitely work on himself to appreciate all the things he has until testing in Barcelona starts in 80 days and throws him into another year of chaos.

He definitely gets more to think about when he ends up pressed against a wall later, rough bricks digging into his back through the thin material of his shirt as he licks the taste of alcohol off of Valtteri's tongue and it's wrong in all the right ways and he's hyperaware of a lot of things but not of the consequences this will undoubtedly bring. He allows himself not to care when the initial aggression dies down just a little bit, subsiding when they part, heavily breathing in synch and staring at each other with wide eyes and shock in their eyes and a faint ache, barely-there longing in their chests, alcohol pumping through their veins and Daniel decides to fuck it and live a little.

* * *

**AUSTRALIA 2020**

He avoided Valtteri through the entirety of winter testing and it's probably mutual so they don't talk about it and they don't text and every once in a while Daniel still wakes up in the middle of the night with sweat on his forehead and an ache both in his heart and in his shorts, unfortunately enough. He looks tired and he definitely feels it, because he can't sleep like a normal person apparently, and yet he smiles for the cameras while he has to deal with yet another new teammate and look like he's enjoying his home race. Which he does, he really does, he just gets a headache from the entire circus around it and damn, maybe he really is getting old.

It's all strange and exhausting and he barely sleeps the week before the race, which is pretty bad and he knows it, and when the Grand Prix gets canceled last minute he texts Max just because he needs someone who can help him to sort the mess in his head out and his plans for the upcoming time. He takes the first flight back home the next morning and even though the reason is horrible, it feels good to get some more time to figure his inner chaos out before he needs to get back on track, quite literally, and smile for the masses.

It's some kind of social media detox, his wifi dies at least twice a day, and it's peaceful and he soaks up the sun and enjoys his time outside where he can really unwind, not like he did last winter. Valtteri disappears once in a while as well so he doesn't have to deal with too many confusing thoughts throughout the lockdown situation.

The paper on his kitchen table makes his eyes and his head hurt and he refuses to read any of it for as long as he can. When he makes his call in a hallelujah-we-have-signal-for-a-second situation and puts his signature on the line, he feels guilty, and yet it might be the right thing. It's probably not, but it doesn't matter all that much anymore. The numbers on the paper look good and it might give him a better chance at being happy and it's seemingly all he's ever wanted. He pays his own price for taking the offer but that's only for him to know in the end.

* * *

**SINGAPORE 2020**

It's not the ideal situation but the paper has been signed for months and it's September now and everyone is looking at him because some vague speculations and wrong hints later there's still nothing confirmed, nothing real and nothing that says _no worries, you're not getting rid of that idiot yet_.

He turns his phone off after the official announcement and he smiles through the weekend, avoids all the questions he can ignore without seeming rude, and finishing the race in a decent position. Two icy showers and an ice-cold bottle of beer later, his phone pings with a new message and it rearranges his guts in the matter of a second when his brain forms word out of the letters on the display.

 **You'll look shit in white** is all it says and Daniel agrees partially but it's worth it, right? He will get used to it, they all will and maybe white isn't that bad considering the chances it offers him. Maybe it's horrible though, he still has to decide that but it's all still so far away and Singapore shines in the moonlight underneath him, million of city lights imitating the stars. He turns the airconditioning up and some music on and stares at the ceiling of his hotel room and his head is empty for the first time in a while, blissfully so and he ignores the guilt in his stomach for as long as he can.

White over black, taking a step into the light and away from the shadows, a new start all over again, a new challenge, rebirth, a new chance, a compromise and maybe, if he just so dares to hope for a second, just for a little while, a chance to get on that top step again and prove them all wrong, once and for all. Mostly himself. Maybe he doubted himself, his own decisions and actions more than anyone else did. It seems likely, makes sense in his head and he closes his eyes and thinks of champagne showers, laughing in sticky suits, white clinging to his skin, maybe it would actually compliment his tan.

But what does it take? What did he sacrifice to get here?

* * *

**AUSTRALIA 2021**

It feels familiar, the kind of moment he's having. Not that he ever experienced it, not at home, not in that team, not in his first race for a different constructor and when he lifts his trophy and his ears start ringing from the noise and his cheeks hurt from how hard he's smiling, it feels like it was all worth it in the end. He barely manages to escape the champagne that Max tries to pour into the gap between his neck and the collar of the race suit and Lewis pats his back and it's not awkward, not at all. Neither of the other drivers escapes the shoey and god, it feels good to be back. For the first time in forever, a Mercedes 1-2 sounds wonderful in his ears.

Australia 2019, that's what it reminded him of, he realizes later when he's trying to get the sticky alcohol from the podium out of his hair and the guilt returns briefly. He bans it from his thoughts and focuses on the future rather than the past, looking forward to dinner and a soft mattress and more success in the future rather than things left unspoken from the past.

**White does kind of suit you, after all, I am impressed.**

**Congratulations.**

It's better to move on while he can before he disappoints himself.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language and this unbetaed and I did not really proofread all that much so I hope you can forgive me for the grammatical sins I commit, I'm still working on that.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr under the same name as here (@komkommertijd) if you want to complain or threaten me or be nice I don't know, feel free to pay me a visit there.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated, thank you to everyone who read this to the end and offers me support of some kind, it means the world to me.
> 
> Peace out party people :)


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